An Old Friend
by Elanorelle Gamgee
Summary: Albert and Joey receive a visitor who served alongside Joey during the Great War. Bookverse.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters. I'm merely borrowing them.

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When I heard my Albert's call that day I trotted over, the summer's grass soft under my hooves, and noticed someone quite unfamiliar at his side. I was curious, there were hardly any visitors that came around anymore, especially those I didn't already know. My ears went forward and I decided to look him over: he was taller than my comrade and though his hair was beginning to grey and his face had the creases of man that should be much older, he wore a young, amiable smile when his eyes met mine, as if we knew each other. He reached up and patted my neck with a gloved hand. "Hello, Joey."

That voice. I seemed to recall it from the memories of my time serving in the War. It was gentle enough to calm even the most terrified of horses but full of such strength and will, neither man nor horse would test his wits against him. I watched him closer, trying to place him, but my memory failed me. His hand still rested on my neck as he turned to Albert. "He is a most remarkable horse, if all I've heard is true and I don't doubt that it is. My dearest friend, rest his soul, would have been proud of him, proud that he came out all right in the end." He looked at me and I felt his hand tremble. "He'd have been proud of you, Joey." Those words, in that voice, triggered a nicker from me and I edged closer to him.

"I do believe he recognizes you, Captain."

"Of course he does." He took off his glove and touched his hand to my nose, then rubbed my ears, which he never did before. "I made sure my Topthorn took good care of him."

"Topthorn?"

"The greatest horse in the cavalry. Glossy black and fit for anything. A perfect specimen by any standards – only your Joey could even try to match him. It became a competition between Jim – Captain Nicholls – and myself. He always believed Joey was the better horse, but I never quite agreed," he chuckled. "But he is, he's a beautiful horse." He brushed away my forelock and I thought, in that instant, he was similar, in character, to Topthorn. "On that day, the day Nicholls was killed, Joey did his best. Kept running straight into the danger, he did. We ended up winning, but not without our casualties." His eyes no longer looked into mine, nor Albert's, but off into the moors. "After that, I passed him to a trooper, Warren. He would have been about your age when you enlisted. A kind soul trapped in such desolation – he died in a prison camp." A bitter tone seeped into his voice as he spoke. "Poor boy. He had his life ahead of him just as so many others dragged into the confounded mess."

Though neither Albert nor Captain Stewart could see, I felt a sorrow knowing another friend of mine was gone. He too, would count amongst the many comrades I lost.

"Before we were captured and separated, he cared for Joey just as well as Nicholls. And my Topthorn did his best to provide the comfort no human could." He slid his hand down to my shoulder and stroked me before slipping on his glove again.

I could see Albert trying to take it all in. He never heard this side of my story and I could never tell him. His eyes moved from me to Captain Stewart. "When I got Joey back, the man who gave him to me said something about a big black horse. He said his granddaughter, Emilie, took care of both Joey and that horse. Do you suppose that was your Topthorn?"

"I'm sure it was," he said. "But it wouldn't matter. If he were alive he'd have been right beside Joey their entire journey. They shared a bond stronger than any two horses I've ever seen: I couldn't imagine either of them showing up by himself without the other, unless the other was unable. They were brothers. Yes, brothers." He stood unblinking and I saw tears well up in his eyes, but he didn't allow himself to cry. "You know, Narracott, we came out of the terrors of the war, heralded as heroes by our country, but those who died, those fathers, husbands, brothers, sons –" a shadow passed over his face as he recalled things we were unable to understand, "friends- they gave everything they had. Everything."

"Yes," Albert whispered. I saw something change in the way he held himself, and knew what he was remembering. Who he was remembering. It was during these moments I wished I could say something, anything, to console him, but all I could do was nudge him gently with my nose. He took my head as he did those days he wasn't able to forget, those times he'd stay silent in my stable, hardly noticing me, hopelessly stuck in those memories he once told me about.

The captain put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But they are heroes, my boy. Heroes. Selfless and courageous, but every bit as scared as anyone. They're the heroes, they're what we could only wish to be. We must be sure to remember them as that. They deserve nothing less."

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Please review!  
Elanor


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